“You gave them to me while we were in the taxicab?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And what did you tell me when you gave me the papers?”

  “The same story that I have told on the witness stand today.”

  “At that time, didn’t you tell me that Mr. Guthrie Balfour had told you that he had done the shooting and that the dead man had been someone who was in the Sleepy Hollow Motel?”

  Boles looked at Mason with absolute, utter incredulity. “Do you mean that I told you that?” he asked.

  “Didn’t you?” Mason asked.

  “Good heavens, no!” Boles said. “Don’t be absurd, Mr. Mason. Why in the world should I tell you that? Why Guthrie Balfour was … why he was on his way to Mexico. I put him on the train personally.”

  “What about the company airplane? Wasn’t that subsequently picked up in Phoenix?”

  “Either Phoenix or Tucson, I think,” Boles said. “But that was at a later date. One of the company employees flew down there on a matter of some importance and then I believe left the plane, as he took a commercial airline on East. I don’t know, but I can look up the company records, in case you’re interested, Mr. Mason. I’m quite satisfied the company records will show that to be the case.”

  “I dare say,” Mason said drily.

  There was a moment’s pause.

  “Did you go out to the Sleepy Hollow Motel on the evening of the nineteenth or the twentieth?” Mason asked.

  Boles shook his head, and said, “I wasn’t anywhere near there. No one knew anything about this car at the Sleepy Hollow Motel until I believe the police picked it up, by tracing a key. I don’t know about those things. I think the police could tell you, Mr. Mason.”

  “When did you last see Guthrie Balfour?” Mason asked.

  “When he took the train at the Arcade Station.”

  “And you haven’t seen him since?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Or heard from him?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve heard from him.”

  “When did you hear from him?”

  “I believe that was the day that Mr. Balfour was tried the first time before the first jury. I believe that’s the date but I’m not certain. Mr. Guthrie Balfour had been back in the mountains somewhere. He came in briefly for supplies and learned of the defendant’s arrest. He telephoned me and told me that he had just talked with you on the telephone, and that his wife Dorla was flying up to get in touch with you.”

  There was an air of complete candor about the witness which carried conviction.

  “You recognized his voice?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s all for the moment,” Mason said. “I may wish to recall this witness.”

  “You may step down,” Judge Cadwell said. “Call your next witness, Mr. Prosecutor.”

  “Florence Ingle,” the prosecutor announced.

  Florence Ingle came forward, was sworn, gave her name and address.

  “You have been subpoenaed as a witness for the defense?” Farris asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I will ask you whether you saw the defendant on the evening of September nineteenth?”

  “I did,” she answered in a low voice.

  “What was his condition?”

  “When?”

  “At the time you last saw him?”

  “At the time I last saw him he had quite evidently been drinking,”

  “Did he tell you anything at that time about being in debt?”

  “Yes, sir. It was a little before that time … the evening of September nineteenth,”

  “What was the conversation, please? But first let me ask you, who was present at that time?”

  “Quite a number of people were present at the house, but they were not present when we had the conversation; that is, they were not where they could hear the conversation.”

  “Just the two of you were present?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And what did the defendant tell you?”

  “He asked if he could borrow twenty thousand dollars. He told me that he was in debt, that he had run up some gambling debts and that the persons with whom he had been dealing telephoned him and threatened to send a collector unless he made immediate payment.”

  “Did he say anything about what he thought the collector wanted?”

  “Yes, he said those collectors got pretty rough the first time, that sometimes they took people on a one-way ride, but that they beat up anyone who welched on a bet.”

  “And did he tell you what he intended to do if a collector tried to beat him up?”

  “He said he was going to defend himself.”

  “Did he say how?”

  “He said, ‘With a gun,’”

  “You may inquire,” Farris said.

  “Did you have any talk with Guthrie Balfour, the defendant’s uncle, on that day?” Mason asked.

  “Objected to as incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial, not proper cross-examination,” Farris said.

  “I would like to have an answer to the question, Your Honor. I think that there is an entire transaction here which should be viewed as a unit.”

  “Certainly not as a unit,” Farris said. “We have no objection to Mr. Mason asking this witness about any conversation she may have had with the defendant in this case. We have no objection to Mr. Mason asking about any matters which were brought up in connection with the conversation on which the witness was questioned on her direct examination, but we certainly do not intend to permit any evidence as to some conversation she may have had with the uncle of the defendant which was not within the presence of the defendant and which, for all we know, has absolutely nothing to do with the issues involved in this case.

  “If there is any such conversation and if it is pertinent, it is part of the defendant’s case. This witness is subpoenaed as a witness for the defense. Counsel can examine her as much as he wants to about any conversation with Mr. Guthrie Balfour when he calls her as his own witness. At that time we will of course object to any conversation which took place without the presence of the defendant or which has no bearing upon the present case.

  “If a person could prove a point by any such procedure as this, there would be no point in swearing a witness. Anyone could get on the stand and tell about some conversation had with some person who was not under oath.”

  “I think that’s quite right, Mr. Mason,” Judge Cadwell said. “The Court wishes to be perfectly fair and impartial in the matter, but you can’t show any evidence of a conversation with some person who is not a party to the proceedings, and you can’t frame such a question as part of your cross-examination. The Court will permit you the most searching cross-examination as to this particular conversation the witness has testified to. The objection is sustained.”

  “No further questions,” Mason said.

  “We will call Mrs. Guthrie Balfour to the stand,” Farris said.

  While Mrs. Balfour was walking forward, Paul Drake stepped up to the bar and caught Mason’s eye. He handed Mason a paper and whispered, “This is a certified photostatic copy of Guthrie Balfour’s application for a driving license.”

  Mason nodded, spread out the paper, glanced at it, looked at it again, then folded the paper.

  Dorla Balfour was making quite an impression on the jury. The trim lines of her figure, the expressive brown eyes, the vivacious yet subdued manner with which she indicated that her natural vitality was being suppressed out of deference to the solemnity of the occasion, made the jurors prepare to like her right from the start.

  She gave her name and address to the court reporter, adjusted herself in the witness chair with a pert little wiggle, raised her lashes, looked at the deputy district attorney, then at the jury, then lowered her lashes demurely.

  At that moment there was a commotion in the courtroom, and Hamilton Burger, the big grizzly bear of a district attorney, came striding purposefully into the courtroom.

  It needed only a glance at the smug triumph of his countenance to realize that word of Perry Mason’s discomfiture had been relayed to him, and he had entered the case personally in order to be in at the kill.

  Too many times he had seen Mason, by the use of startling ingenuity, squeeze his way out of some seemingly impossible situation. Now he had waited until he was certain Mason had shot all the arrows from his quiver before entering court. It was apparent to everyone that Dorla Balfour would be the last witness, and then Mason would be forced to make a decision. Either he would put the defendant on the stand, or he would not. If he put the defendant on the stand and the defendant’s story coincided with that of Banner Boles, the defendant might have a good chance of showing self-defense. But in that case, Mason would run the risk of an admission of unprofessional conduct and be branded for withholding evidence Boles had given him. If the defendant’s story should differ from Boles’ testimony, there was not one chance in a hundred the jury would believe it.

  Farris, apparently trying to appear in the best possible light before his chief, said, “Mrs. Balfour, do you remember the evening of the nineteenth of September of this year?”

  “Very well,” she said.

  “Did you have any conversation with the defendant on that day?”

  “I did, yes, sir.”

  “When?”

  “In the evening.”

  “Where?”

  “At a party given by Mrs. Ingle for my husband.”

  “That was in the nature of a going-away party?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Your husband took the train that night?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And did you take the train?”

  “Yes, sir, I was to have accompanied my husband as far as the station at Pasadena. However, at the last minute he asked me to go all the way with him.”

  “Well, never mind that,” the prosecutor said. “I’m just trying to fix the time and place of the conversation. Now who was present at this conversation?”

  “The one I had with the defendant?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just the defendant and I were present. That is, there were other people in the group but he took me to one side.”

  “And what did he say to you?”

  “He told me that he had incurred some gambling debts; that they were debts on which he didn’t dare to welch; that he had been plunging because he had got in pretty deep and he had to make good or he was threatened with personal danger. He said that they had told him a collector was coming, that these collectors were sort of a goon squad who would beat him up and—well, that he had to have some money.”

  “Did he ask you for money?”

  “Not me. But he asked me if, while I was on the train, I couldn’t intercede for him with my husband and get my husband to let him have twenty thousand dollars.”

  “You may inquire,” Farris said.

  “And you did intercede with your husband?” Mason asked.

  “Not then. I did later on.”

  “How much later on?”

  “Well, Mr. Mason, you understand I was supposed to get off the train at Pasadena, and then Guthrie asked me to go on with him all the way. He said that he felt uneasy, that he felt that something perhaps was going to happen. He asked me to accompany him.”

  “And you did?” Mason asked.

  “Objected to as incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial. Not proper cross-examination in that it has nothing to do with the conversation concerning which this witness has testified. We are perfectly willing to let Mr. Mason explore all of the facts in connection with that conversation, but any conversation which subsequently took place between this witness and her husband would be incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial. It would be hearsay, and we object to it.”

  “Sustained,” Judge Cadwell said.

  “Didn’t you actually get off the train at Pasadena?” Mason asked.

  “Objected to as incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial. Not proper cross-examination.”

  “I will permit the question,” Judge Cadwell said. “I am going to give the defense every opportunity for a searching cross-examination. The question of what this witness may have said to her husband is one thing, but any of the circumstances surrounding the conversation that was had on this occasion may be gone into. Answer the question.”

  “Certainly not,” she said.

  “Didn’t you go to the Sleepy Hollow Motel on that evening?”

  “Oh, Your Honor,” Roger Farris protested. “The vice of this is now perfectly apparent. This is an attempt to befuddle the issues in this case. It is also a dastardly attack on this witness. It makes no difference what she did. She has testified only to her conversation.”

  “She testified that she went on the train with her husband,” Judge Cadwell said, “The Court wishes to give the defense every latitude. I think I will permit an answer to this question.”

  “Did you go to the Sleepy Hollow Motel?” Mason asked.

  “Certainly not,” she flared at him. “And you have no right to ask such a question, Mr. Mason. You know perfectly good and well that I didn’t do any such thing.”

  “Do you remember an occasion when your husband telephoned me from Chihuahual?” Mason asked.

  “Certainly,” she said.

  “You were with him at that time?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that is when you returned from Chihuahua?”

  “Yes.”

  “That was the occasion when the defendant was on trial for manslaughter?”

  “It was the day after the trial; that is, it was the day of the trial, but after the trial had been concluded.”

  “And you did catch a plane from Chihuahual”

  “I chartered a plane from Chihuahua and was taken to El Paso. I caught a plane at El Paso and came here. Yes.”

  “And you saw me the next morning?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you were with your husband when he telephoned?”

  “Oh, Your Honor,” Farris said, “here we go, on and on and on. This is the vice of opening the door on cross-examination. I don’t know what counsel is expecting to prove. I do know that we would like to confine the issues in this case to a simple question of fact. I object to this question on the ground that it is not proper cross-examination, that it’s incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial.”

  “I am going to permit the answer to this one question,” Judge Cadwell said. “I think myself this is going far afield, but it may have a bearing on possible bias on the part of the witness.

  “The question, Mrs. Balfour, is whether you were with your husband at the time he telephoned Mr. Mason on that date.”

  “I was. Yes, sir.”

  “And,” Mason went on, “were you subsequently with him when he telephoned to Mr. Banner Boles?”

  “I am not going to object to this question,” Roger Farris said, “on the sole and specific understanding that it is not to be used to open a door for a long involved line of extraneous questions. I don’t think counsel is entitled to go on a fishing expedition.”

  “The Court feels that this line of questioning has certainly gone far enough,” Judge Cadwell said. “The Court wishes to give the defense every opportunity for a cross-examination. Answer the question, Mrs. Balfour. Were you with your husband when he telephoned Mr. Banner Boles?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well then,” Mason said, getting to his feet, “perhaps, Mrs. Balfour, you wouldn’t mind turning to the jury and explaining to them how it could possibly be that you journeyed on the train to El Paso with a corpse, that you spent some time in Chihuahua with a corpse, that you were with a corpse when he telephoned Mr. Banner Boles?”

  “What in the world do you mean?” she snapped, before the stupefied Roger Farris could even so much as interpose an objection.

  “Simply this,” Mason said, snapping open the paper he was holding. “The right thumbprint of your husband Guthrie Balfour which is shown on this certified copy of an application for a driver’s license is an exact copy of the right thumbprint of the dead man, as disclosed by the coroner’s record. The man who was found with this bullet in his brain, the man who was supposedly the victim of this hit-and-run episode, that man was your husband, Guthrie Balfour. Now perhaps you can explain how it happened that you spent this time with a dead man?”

  “It can’t be,” she said vehemently. “I was with my husband. I—”

  “Let me see that thumbprint,” Judge Cadwell snapped.

  Mason brought up the thumbprint.

  “And let me take a look at the exhibit showing the finger-prints of the dead man,” Judge Cadwell said.

  For a long moment he compared the two prints.

  “Would the prosecution like to look at this evidence?” Judge Cadwell asked.

  “No, Your Honor,” Hamilton Burger said smiling. “We are too familiar with counsel’s dramatic tricks to be impressed by them.”

  “You’d better be impressed by this one,” Judge Cadwell said, “because unless there’s some mistake in the exhibit it is quite apparent that the prints are the same.”

  “Then it is quite apparent that there has been some trickery in connection with the exhibits,” Hamilton Burger said.

  “Now if the Court please,” Mason went on, “I am suddenly impressed by certain signatures on the record of the Sleepy Hollow Motel, which I have had photostated. It is evident that one of these signatures, that of Jackson Eagan, is similar to the signature on the driver’s license issued to Jackson Eagan. However, I would like time to have a hand-writing expert compare the signature of the man who signed his name ‘Jackson Eagan’ with the handwriting of Banner Boles. I think, if the Court please, I begin to see the pattern of what must have happened on the night of September nineteenth.”

  “Now just a moment, just a moment,” Hamilton Burger shouted. “I object to any such statement by counsel. I object to such a motion. I object to the Court permitting any such statement in front of a jury. I charge counsel with misconduct because of that remark, and I ask the Court to admonish the jury to disregard it.”

  Judge Cadwell turned to the openmouthed jurors. “The jurors will not be influenced by any remarks made by counsel for either side,” he said. “The Court, however, of its own motion, is going to take an adjournment for an hour, during which time certain records will be examined. I am particularly anxious to have a qualified fingerprint expert examine this unquestioned similarity between a thumbprint of Guthrie Balfour on this application for a driving license, and the right thumbprint of the dead man who is the decedent in this case. Court will take a one-hour recess, during which time the jurors are not to converse with anyone about this case, not to discuss it among yourselves, and not to form or express any opinion. Court will take a recess.”